


Kitchen Disaster

by SneetchesToo



Series: Good Things Happen Bingo [5]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Good Things Happen Bingo, i hate writing tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29540736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SneetchesToo/pseuds/SneetchesToo
Summary: GTHB: Cooking TogetherOwen knew Michelle was a disaster in the kitchen, but this, this was just too much even for him.
Relationships: Michelle Blake/Owen Strand
Series: Good Things Happen Bingo [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154996
Comments: 10
Kudos: 14





	Kitchen Disaster

**Author's Note:**

> *For Jackie <3

Owen knew he wasn’t crazy when he heard noises coming from his kitchen.

However, what was crazy, was that the only people in the house were him and Michelle.

And lord knew Michelle shouldn’t be in the kitchen unsupervised, which is what seemed to be happening right about now.

"What are you doing?" He rushed down the stairs, calling out to her as he came to a halt in the doorway to the kitchen.

"I'm cooking..." Sure enough, she had donned his apron and was currently rummaging through his cabinets, apparently searching for something she was going to make.

Or rather, burn.

"Oh hell no." He knew he should be upstairs resting, but there was no way he could let this happen.

"Excuse me?!" In fact, he couldn’t believe that Judd and Grace had left her alone earlier without providing them with dinner first.

"Carlos warned me about you." He pointed at her with his good hand, watching as she huffed before turning to face him.

"Warned you? About what?” She tried her best to look innocent, but he knew better. “What did I do?"

"He told me that you were never to be trusted in the kitchen. Ever." In fact, Grace had said the same thing, and so did Judd, and Tommy and Charles and even Michelle’s mom.

She was never to be left unattended around anything flammable or sharp or glass.

It was a wonder she had lived as long as she had sometimes.

"But..." Her shoulders slumped forward as she pouted at him.

"No." He wasn’t going to risk having his perfectly good house burn down around them.

Especially when he wasn’t in any shape to fight the fire himself.

"And what are you going to do?" The raised eyebrow and the hand on the hip were too much for him and he sighed.

"What do you mean?" He really should have asked TK to stay with them at least one more night.

"Your arm is broken Owen, you cannot cook dinner like that." She gestured to his arm that was resting nicely in its beautiful blue cast and shiny sling.

Goddamn faulty wiring and rusty stairs.

"Damn straight I can." He could find a way to make this work, he had cooked with less before.

"No. You heard the doctor, rest.” He rolled his eyes at her statement, she was one to talk about following doctor’s orders. “Lots and lots of rest."

"I don't think what we did last night would make the doctor very happy." He winked and it was her turn to roll her eyes, huffing as she leaned back against the counter and stared him down.

"Hush it!” She waved her arms around in front of her like a mad woman and he sighed. “I am cooking for you, that is final."

"You're gonna burn my house down." And if he didn’t trust her before, watching her start to rummage through the drawers of the kitchen like she was looking for something sharp, wasn’t helping.

"Well it's a good thing you're a firefighter then huh?" She snapped over her shoulder, shooting him a warning look that he should probably quit while he was ahead.

"Michelle... I'm not kidding." But he wasn’t going to risk it, not now.

"And neither am I. What do you want?” She threw open the cupboard again, sighing as she shoved boxes around, mostly TK’s things if he wasn’t mistaken. “I see you have the stuff for tacos, and it looks like maybe spaghetti..."

"Neither of those things are beginner safe." In reality, they were safer than some of the other options he had in his house, but he really didn’t want to have to teach her to boil water, or brown meat of any kind.

"What is beginner safe? And why am I a beginner?” Oh where did he begin. “I'm 39 years old!"

"And Carlos ratted your cute butt out.” He hoped that throwing the ‘cute butt’ comment in there would help his case, but the look she gave him told him that he wasn’t helping his case any. “You burn Easy Mac Michelle, who does that?"

Fine, he would throw the facts out there then and let them fall where they may.

"Carlos' microwave is faulty." She groaned, shutting the cabinet a little harder than necessary.

"You did it in the firehouse kitchen!" But he knew better than to let her blame Carlos’ microwave for her lack of cooking skills.

"I'm gonna kill Carlos for telling you that." She sighed.

"It's not really a secret Michelle,” He gritted his teeth as he spoke, “everyone in the firehouse knew about it."

"And yet you had to find out from Carlos..." The other man had happily relayed the information to Owen, a few months after it happened, but still, at least he knew about it in time to prevent her from burning down his house.

"If I recall, I was going through some things at that time..." Those first nine months in Austin had been hard, really hard, and he was glad they were over.

"Ah yes, hiding your cancer from everyone, such fond memories for us all." She rolled her eyes as she spoke, her voice growing bitter at the memories of him withholding his cancer diagnosis from everyone, including her and TK.

"I thought you were gonna cook me dinner." Maybe changing the subject and moving on was what was best.

"Nice job changing the subject...” She moved to open the fridge, sighing as its contents stared her down, “besides I thought you told me I wasn't allowed too."

"You're not." And he was sticking by that rule.

Just like he wouldn’t let TK cook, she wasn’t allowed to cook either.

"So what's your solution then?” She slammed the fridge shut and turned to the freezer, giving up before she even opened it and turning to face him once again. “Because we can't eat take-out every night Owen, it's not healthy."

"It's safer than letting you cook." The truth may have hurt a little, but it needed to be said.

He didn’t want food poisoning and he didn’t want the 126 putting out a fire in his kitchen.

Keeping Michelle from cooking would prevent both from happening.

"Fine. How about you show me how to cook?" He shook his head back and forth at her suggestion.

"Show you?" That was a very bad idea.

"Yes. Show me." But she seemed determined, and when Michelle Blake was determined to do something…

"I don't know if I can do that." He sighed as he reached up and ran his free hand through his hair.

His ever graying hair.

He was starting to blame that on her and no one else.

"Why not?" She looked at him with a defeated face and he shook his head once more.

"Because that would require me being close to you and I don't think that's a good idea." He really didn’t know if being around Michelle while she was near hot objects and sharp knives was a good idea.

"Afraid we'll do something naughty on the kitchen counters again?" She started moving toward him as she batted her eyelashes and smiled.

"No.” In fact, making out on the kitchen counter was the least of his worries right now, even with a broken arm and a fractured collar bone. “I'm more afraid you'll send me to the ER."

"I'm a paramedic Owen!” She threw her hands up in the air with an exasperated huff and he chuckled. “I think that if I cause any injury to you I can easily remedy the situation."

"And if you set my kitchen on fire?" That was the more important question wasn’t it.

She may still be able to do her job, but he wasn’t exactly in any position to be doing his.

"Well you are a firefighter Captain Strand..." Hence why his doctor had made him take two weeks off work.

"Yes, a firefighter with only the use of one arm at the moment.” And contrary to popular belief, it was harder to put out a fire than it looked. “That sounds like a recipe for disaster."

"Well then you'll just have to make sure I don't set anything on fire." She crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down.

"You'll listen to me?" He doubted it.

"I promise." But it was worth a shot.

"Fine. First, get your phone." He pointed to the object resting on the island and waited.

"Oh, do I get to pick the recipe?" She grabbed her phone and unlocked it, bouncing on her heels as she waited for the next instruction.

"Uh yeah, sure." He would let her think whatever she wanted if it saved him from this headache.

"Alright now what?" She really was way to excited about this and he kind of felt bad.

"Find the number for the closest sushi place because I am not teaching you how to cook when I can't defend myself against your evil powers." But only a little bad.

"I hate you." She put on her best sad face and he sighed.

"I'm sure you do." He waited for her to get over and move on.

But no such thing happened.

Instead she stood there and stared at him with a pouty face and sad eyes and he couldn’t help but give in.

"Fine. We'll start simple.” Because he knew he would never hear the end of it if he didn’t at least let her try. “We'll make spaghetti the easy way. Pasta, jarred sauce, the end."

"You're no fun." He didn’t know what she expected from him.

It’s not like he was going to let her make her own pasta.

No one touched his KitchenAid mixer but him.

Not even his adorable and sexy girlfriend.

"And I also don't wanna wind up in the hospital, again." He emphasized the ‘again’, hoping she’d remember how they had spent forty-eight hours in the hospital just three days ago, waiting for them to give him the all clear to go home.

He had never been so happy to see his own mattress in his entire life.

"Ugh. Alright, what first?" He grinned at her as he moved to sit at the island, watching as she fidgeted under his gaze.

"Get that black pot right there and fill it with water." He pointed to the object resting on the counter, likely abandoned there for several days since no one had been cooking here.

At least he knew his house was clean.

"How much water?" She put the pot under the sink and turned it on, waiting for his answer.

"How much pasta are you going to cook?" The amount of water completely depended on the amount of pasta, didn’t she know this?

"I don't know.” She shrugged as she stared down at the pot in front of her. “Enough for the two of us..."

"Do I really have to do everything Michelle?" He huffed out, watching as she turned the water off and held the pot up.

"Well..." He wasn’t going to answer that question, not not, not ever.

"Now turn the stovetop on." He watched as she turned toward the stove before setting the pot down on the burner in front of her.

"Which knob does that?" Oh she had to be kidding him.

"That one, right there. No, not that one.” She was going to be the death of him, it was official, his tombstone would say it for the whole world to see too. “That... alright... we're ordering pizza."

"I thought you wanted sushi." She huffed as she turned toward him, the pot of water long forgotten on the stove.

She must have realized this was an entirely pointless task to attempt.

"I need food that doesn't require me to think." He dropped his head down to the countertop as he took a few deep breaths.

"Sushi requires you to think?" He could hear the sarcasm in her voice and he lifted his head to stare at her.

"Sushi is not lazy food. I need lazy food." He also need a fifth of whiskey and a cigar, neither of which were options for him given his current state.

"Was that really that bad?" He nodded his head as he stood up from the chair, moving toward her as he chuckled.

"Yes." He watched as she backed up to the counter, a sigh leaving her lips when she realized he had boxed her in.

"I didn't even get to boil the water!" The disappointment in her voice was a little heartbreaking, but only a little.

"And hopefully, honey, you never will." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her head before turning away from her and grabbing his phone.

"You're evil." There was no bitterness in her tone though and he knew that she didn’t mean it.

"But you love me anyway." He offered her a smile and a little wink, but she didn’t return them.

"Hmmm I don't know about that." Instead she had to go and break his heart like that.

"Hey now!" He watched as she grabbed her phone and stormed out of the kitchen. “Where are you going?”

"To order the pizza.” Oh hell no, she couldn’t be trusted to do that either. “I'm getting extra pepperoni! Oh and sausage!"

"No Michelle, God that's so unhealthy." He couldn’t believe she could eat something like that.

So much fat.

So much grease.

It was a wonder she was as skinny and fit as she was.

Well, he knew damn well one of the reasons, but regardless of his involvement in it, it really was insane.

"If you want healthy, order sushi, but I want a pizza." He sighed as he followed her into the living room, watching as she dropped to the couch.

"At least add something green..." He would beg if he had too. “Or mushrooms, something that grows from the Earth.”

"Never.” She shook her head ‘no’ before answering the voice on the other end with an excited plea for an extra large pizza with extra pepperoni and sausage.

“Michelle…” He really hoped that she understood that he wouldn’t eat that.

“No, that’s all.” The look she gave him told him he had better be glad that he was still standing. “Thank you.”

She hung up and he sighed.

“Am in the doghouse now?” He really hadn’t meant to upset her, he just, well, he didn’t want to die.

“Not if you let me make dessert.” She was giving him the puppy dog eyes and he knew, that she knew, that he couldn’t say ‘no’ to those.

“I don’t have anything here to make for dessert.” And that was the truth, especially given that he hadn’t been to the store in over a week. “How about I take you out for ice cream?”

“You can’t drive.” That was true, but it was all semantics at this point, right.

“Fine, you can drive, and I’ll pay.” He offered her a smile and she rolled her eyes.

“How chivalrous of you.” He dropped down onto the couch beside her and reached out to poke her thigh.

“I’ll make you a deal then.” She turned toward him and he swallowed, if he didn’t hold up his end of the bargain here she was going to kill him, or worse, leave his ass. “Next weekend I will teach you how to cook something.”

“Promise?” He took a deep breath as he nodded his head.

“I promise.” It couldn’t be that bad, could it.

Maybe he could recruit Carlos into helping him.

Surely the two of them together could combat her inability to function in the kitchen.

“Alright.” She sank back against the couch and grabbed the TV remote, finding some old sitcom rerun and letting it play for a few minutes.

He had just started to relax beside her when she sat up all excited beside him.

“But I get to pick the recipe.” He got ready to protest when he saw the look in her eyes, arguing would surely result in sleeping alone for many nights to come. “And you cannot make Carlos do all the work.”

The fact that she could read his mind was scary, very, very scary.

“Fine.” He knew it was just best to give in and let her have this one.

And hopefully, before the weekend came around, she’d forget about his promise and move on to scary the crap out of him some other way.

**Author's Note:**

> *Comments are appreciated.


End file.
